I’m at that point where, like Uncle Jimmy says, I need to take off for a weekend just to try and recall the whole year. Is it seriously the end of August? Despite my best attempts to bury my head in the sand, the
proof is in the institutional pudding. Summer is fading and fall is fast approaching.
proof is in the institutional pudding. Summer is fading and fall is fast approaching.
Clue one: my house is silent.
No arguments over the television, no fights about Halo 3 or whatever the hell it is they’re playing now (that’s their father’s arena. I don’t do video games… well, except Lego Pirates of the Caribbean. I mean, Jack Sparrow actually MOVES like the movie character. How the hell do they DO that?) There are no chicken nuggets to be baked, no playdates to be arranged. School is back in session and, once more, the hours between 9 and 3 become my own.
I know a lot of parents get misty eyed when their kids go off to school, and I will admit I’ve had my moments. I made the critical mistake of watching the 5th grade graduation photo slideshow the day
my new middle schooler went to enroll. Sweet suffering on a water buffalo, that was a bad idea. Pictures of my son’s smiling friends hamming for the camera flashed by, accompanied by heartwrenching music about friendship and memories. The cloying sentimentalism got to me, and soon I was snuffling and dripping all over my keyboard. Attractive.
my new middle schooler went to enroll. Sweet suffering on a water buffalo, that was a bad idea. Pictures of my son’s smiling friends hamming for the camera flashed by, accompanied by heartwrenching music about friendship and memories. The cloying sentimentalism got to me, and soon I was snuffling and dripping all over my keyboard. Attractive.
When the day actually came, though, I was pretty chill. Chris got himself up at 5:30 (bless that child, where the hell did he get the early morning gene from?), showered, dressed, and even deigned to take the yearly “before school” photographs. When the bus came at 8, he was standing nonchalantly at the stop sign, chatting with a friend, waiting to go on to the next part of his life while I hid in the bushes, watching him go.
- Can we just get this over with?
- "Pretend they don't exist; maybe they'll go back inside."
No, really. I hid in the bushes. I mean, damn, don’t you remember middle school? If I were eleven, I would have wanted me hiding in the bushes too. You know what I mean.
- Yes, those are leaves at the edge there. Don't judge me.
So it’s quiet here, and for the first time in 83 days my house is my own. Today marks the first Monday back to school, and it’s business as usual, I’m sure. No one has called home in hysterics. Zack has managed to
navigate his way to first grade without the assistance of his big brother that was there last year. Chris has yet to be shoved into a locker. They come home with smiles on their faces and stories to tell. Mostly about lunch, but I’ll take what I can get. In the meantime, I blast some Buffett, drink another cup of coffee, and wait for them to come home.
navigate his way to first grade without the assistance of his big brother that was there last year. Chris has yet to be shoved into a locker. They come home with smiles on their faces and stories to tell. Mostly about lunch, but I’ll take what I can get. In the meantime, I blast some Buffett, drink another cup of coffee, and wait for them to come home.
- No worries here
Because, honestly? I kind of miss the noise.
Kind of.
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